


Gather Near To Us Once More

by wingsyouburn



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clan Denial, Found Family, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 21:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsyouburn/pseuds/wingsyouburn
Summary: Some gifts were best delivered in person, and even Methos knew when to do that.





	Gather Near To Us Once More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jtt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jtt/gifts).



> Written for Julie the Tall Terror as part of Highlander Holiday Shortcuts 2018. I hope you enjoy! <3 
> 
> Also assumes that Richie survived that whole Ahriman bs and is living his best Immortal life. For reasons.

Holidays, for Methos, were strange. Cultures and traditions changed so much over the years - over the centuries, over the millennia - and people were naive, thinking that their way of doing things was the only way. The right way. That sort of blind confidence reminded him a lot of Rome, and in the end, Rome fell too. 

Sometimes he wished he could remember anything from his first life, to honor the traditions and holidays he’d been born into. Those memories were lost to him, and without effort to write things down now, he wouldn’t recall as much of the present either. The chronicles he had maintained for the Watchers were only part of the story, the things Methos wanted the secret society to know. At its core, the chronicles were his personal journals, more precious to him than anything else. 

Still, it was hard not to get in the holiday spirit. Given that he moved around a lot, each year Methos found himself invited to a holiday dinner or two by well-meaning friends. It didn’t matter what version of a winter holiday they celebrated as long as the food was good and the company was better. He’d often go and break bread, share stories about things that didn’t matter, but he loved to hear about their lives in return.

His Immortal friends made sure he never forgot what time of year it was, too. Methos wasn’t always in touch with all of them, but when he was, it was a good time. One year Amanda talked him into breaking into a museum for a set of priceless jewels she swore she had to have. Afterward, they sat in her Parisian apartment drinking wine and admiring their hard work, Amanda holding the necklace up to the light. The diamond pendant alone was likely worth a million dollars, and it wasn’t the only piece in the lot. 

“It’s a bit flashy,” he’d told her, grinning behind his wine glass, “even for you.”

Amanda laughed. “Darling, I’m not going to _keep_ it, I’ll fence it after the new year. It’s the holidays. Shouldn’t every lady get a chance to feel like a queen?” She glanced over at him. “And to make memories with an old friend?”

That thought lingered with Methos long after he disappeared from Amanda’s life again. Whenever he caught up with her, whether that was next week or next decade, it would be as if no time had passed between them at all. Gifts weren’t his forte - at least, not of the caliber that someone on a grad student's budget could afford - but when he saw something perfect, he picked it up and shipped it off. Yes, even to Amanda, while he knew there was a 50-50 chance she might sell it rather than treasure the thought he put into it. 

Duncan was the easiest, for the man’s fondness for antiques meant that Methos could pick up unique pieces and ship them at odd times. Not always during the winter holidays, and usually without a note attached. Duncan was smart, and he’d figure it out eventually. Or he could think he had a secret admirer. Methos was fine either way. 

He was also the easiest to keep in touch with, and Methos saw Duncan more often than the others. Sometimes it was only in passing, sometimes for a longer stretch of time. In spite of their differences - or maybe because of them - Methos knew Duncan was someone he could rely on if he had to. He was just in the habit of not doing that. 

Another holiday he came across Richie in Prague, and they spent New Year’s Eve drinking in the smallest dive bar they could find. Richie was a good kid, but harder now, more wiser in the ways of the world. After getting him away from an Ahriman-influenced Duncan, Methos had wondered if they’d ever cross paths again, but Richie seemed stronger, too. Methos hoped he’d make it, and that he’d get to see him again. Only time and the fates would tell, but he hoped what wisdom he could give him would serve Richie well. 

But some gifts were best delivered in person, and even Methos knew when to do that. 

Over the course of a couple years, he built a rather impressive collection of scotch. The rarest and the best he could find - an Isle of Jura 30 year old, one of only 200 bottles released in the United States; a 25 year old bottle of Highland Park; and a Dalmore Selene that cost more money than Methos would ever admit spending on a gift, among others. These were the sort of bottles to be savored, sipped slowly, but most importantly, to be shared. So he got on a plane, made a few phone calls, and flew back to Seacouver one last time. 

The bar was still named Joe’s, and from what he could research online, the same man still owned it. He’d learned from Duncan that Joe Dawson was no longer an active Watcher, and had retired as best he could from the “business,” as it were, to run the bar full time. From what he understood, Joe signed the checks and did all the hiring, but much of the day to day business was managed by a fully capable staff. The sign out front still advertised concerts every Friday and Saturday night, and the thought of it made Methos smile. He did a quick look around the parking lot, spotting one car that looked vaguely familiar, and another motorcycle on the other side of the building.

Perfect. Everything was going according to plan. 

Inside, the bar was much as he remembered, though the tables and chairs were newer and in different places. Christmas lights hung behind the stage and along the front of the bar, but no other holiday decorations. Methos had always liked the charm of the bar, with the beaten and worn furniture of old, but this worked too. Now it still felt lived in and loved, a representation of the man who owned it. 

The kid behind the bar looked younger than the room around him, wiping down the counter as Methos approached. There were a few other people at various tables, but Methos knew he was early for the evening rush. “Hey there!” the kid said, tossing the towel into a bucket below the bar. He did cast a glance at the wrapped box Methos carried under one arm, but didn’t question it. “What can I get for you?” 

Before Methos could answer, another voice came from the back office. “Don’t get him a thing! He hasn’t paid his bar tab yet!” 

Methos laughed, knowing that voice anywhere. “Come on, did you not realize what all that money I sent you over the last few years was for?” Every once in a while he did send cash to Joe, for his tab really was that high, but like his gifts to Duncan, there was never a signed note attached. “You know I’m here to see you anyway.” 

Joe Dawson stood in the doorway, leaning more heavily on his cane than he had the last time Methos had seen him. The office beyond showed a desk full of paperwork, organized into stacks, and a wheelchair folded against the back wall. His beard had grown in, his hair fully white now compared to the salt and pepper it used to be. Joe’s smile, on the other hand, was just the same. “You could have called,” he said, shaking his head as he made his way forward for a hug. 

“Would’ve ruined the surprise.” Setting the box he carried down on the bar, Methos embraced Joe warmly. Of all the mortals he knew, Joe was one he wouldn’t need his journals to remember. “You look good.”

“I look like shit, don’t lie to me.” Joe waved a hand in dismissal. “You look just the same, though. But what’s with the goatee thing you have here?” He gestured to his own face, raising an eyebrow.

“You know, blending in.” And changing identities, considering that the last man he’d pretended to be had been known for being clean shaven. 

The kid behind the bar cleared his throat. “Uh… boss? You know this guy?” 

“Unfortunately.” Though the word seemed harsh, Methos recognized the warmth in Joe’s voice as he said it. “This is an old friend of mine, Charlie.” The fact that Joe also knew Methos’ current alias proved he was in touch with Duncan often enough, or hadn’t managed to get rid of his Watcher connections completely. “Charlie, this is Ben, he’s new around here. Hell of a guitarist, too.” 

Methos offered Ben a hand, watching the questions behind the younger man’s eyes and not planning on answering a single one. “Perhaps you’ll be playing on stage here at some point?” 

Ben nodded. “Yeah, Friday night. Maybe you’ll come out? Got a few new bands playing, so we’d love the turnout.”

“We’ll see. Maybe Joe will even let me order a beer by then.” 

Snorting, Joe waved his free hand towards the bar. “Ugh. Get him a draft, so he’ll shut up about it.” 

“Would you rather I paid upfront?” 

“What’s the point? It’s not like you’ll pay off that tab in my lifetime anyway.” There was a hint of something in Joe’s eyes, a recognition that he would die much sooner than any of his Immortal friends. Methos didn’t want to focus on that today, not when he meant this to be a happy occasion, and thus didn’t mention it. 

Instead, Methos smiled, hearing the bar door open behind him, as well as feeling that telltale buzz in the back of his mind that said another Immortal was approaching. Two, if the sound of footsteps were accurate. He didn’t bother to turn his head, but tapped the box he brought instead, softly enough not to damage the bottles inside. “Hold on that beer, though, Ben. We’re about to have company.” 

“Joseph! Darling!” 

Amanda’s voice rang out first, and she let go of Duncan’s arm to greet Joe, catching up to him a few strides and kissing him on both cheeks. “I simply love what you’ve done with the place. Most bars go full tilt Christmas this time of year, but you’ve kept it quite tasteful.” 

There was no stopping the grin on Joe’s face as Amanda pulled back, and Methos thought it something of a tragedy that she hadn’t left a lipstick stain on his cheek. “Thanks. The kids who work here convinced me to go with the lights. Said I had to be festive somehow.” 

“It’s working in your favor.” Duncan followed Amanda, clapping Joe on the back. “Been a while. Been meaning to head out this way for a bit, sorry it’s such late notice.” That much was true - Duncan had been planning a visit to Seacouver soon anyway, so when Methos sprung this idea on him, it hadn’t been much of an inconvenience. Amanda, on the other hand, only needed a bribe before she realized the reason why Methos had asked them all to come here. Seeing her in person to make his request helped, too. 

“It’s not every day a guy flies back from Paris,” Joe pointed out. 

“London, these last few weeks,” Duncan corrected. “Should be heading back to Paris after New Year’s, though.” He looked over at Methos. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Same to you,” Methos shot back, grinning. “It’s only been, what? A few months?” 

“Try a year and a half.” 

He threw up a hand. “I lose track of time these days.” 

The conversation continued around him, Amanda having swapped out Duncan’s arm with Joe’s and chatting away with the old Watcher like she’d only seen him yesterday. Methos looked out over the bar, picking out what used to be his favorite table and heading in that direction when one more tingling feeling ran up the back of his spine. He turned towards the door and the leather jacket-clad figure waiting there. “Good of you to join us,” he called over, flagging the man down. 

Richie Ryan ran a hand over his hair, motorcycle helmet tucked underneath his arm. His eyes flicked to Duncan, and Methos knew that betrayal still stung, but they were all adults here. It was either carry grudges for centuries or learn to move on, and Richie was doing his best. After all, Richie wasn’t here for Duncan, he was here for Joe. They’d all come to spend Christmas here in Seacouver, one last time, at Methos’ request. 

And to think the others thought he didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body. It just took a bit to drag it out of him sometimes. 

“Richie!” While Duncan blanched a little, even though Methos had told him he planned to reach out to his former student, Joe didn’t hesitate. He walked slower now, but Richie still met him halfway for a hearty hug. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. You doing okay, kid?” 

“As okay as I’m gonna be.” Coming from Richie - and remembering the drunken things he’d told Methos the last holiday they spent together - that was pretty good. “How are you? The bar looks great.”

“Thanks. Been doing my best to keep up with it.” Joe turned to Ben, flagging the bartender down. “Everyone, grab a seat, Ben can grab drinks...”

His voice trailed off when Methos laid a hand on his shoulder. “I got it, Joe. Let’s grab my table.” Over his time spent in Seacouver, Methos had the table he preferred and it was roughly still in the same spot, with chairs enough for all five of them. Methos brought his box to the table while Amanda subtly helped Joe to a seat. Richie made sure to leave plenty of space between himself and Duncan, and maybe the two of them would start to clear the air between them before this visit was over.

Or maybe not. It wasn’t Methos’ problem to worry about. 

He set the box down in front of Joe and took a seat to the Watcher’s left, Duncan and Amanda to his right. “Ben, can you bring over five rocks glasses?” Methos asked, and Ben didn’t hesitate, along with a small bucket of ice in case anyone needed it. Then he leaned back and settled in, almost as if he’d never left in the first place. 

“So…” Richie let the word drag out for a second before looking over at Methos. “You wanna tell us why you asked us all here?” 

“It’s the holidays,” Methos said, waving a hand. “And we haven’t all been in the same place at the same time in ages. Figured it was as good as an excuse as any.” He gestured to the box. “Now Joe can open his gift.”

Amanda pouted, sticking out her lower lip. “You didn’t get _me_ anything.”

“My gift to you is my presence,” he said. “But perhaps we can find something a little more… shiny for you later.”

“Charlie, dearest, are you suggesting what I think you are?” She leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “If so, there’s a lovely museum I’ve had my eyes on-”

“Hey.” Duncan glared at her, and Amanda turned that pout on him. 

Methos only laughed. “We’ll see.”

Chuckling along with the rest of them, Joe pulled on the ribbon and tore open the paper. Nestled inside the box were the bottles of scotch Methos had spent the better part of two years collecting, and Joe just stared. “You’ve got to be kidding.” 

“He brought you a box full of booze?” Richie leaned forward to see its contents. 

“Not just any kind. Scotch. The good stuff.” Joe picked up the bottle of Dalmore Selene and froze. “The _really_ good stuff.”

“Let me see that.” Duncan took the bottle from Joe and paled. “This is one of the rarest bottles in the world.” 

Methos nodded. “Yup.”

“And this cost you how much?” Duncan was examining the back of the bottle, Amanda and Joe crowding in on either side of him. Richie leaned over to grab another one to look at himself. 

“A man never gives away his secrets.”

“Hah!” Amanda giggled. “He stole it! I knew you were picking up tricks from me.” 

“Not stolen. Everything in here is 100 percent legal.” Methos plucked the bottle from Duncan’s hands and opened it, enjoying the way Duncan’s jaw dropped as he did so. Methodically he poured them each two fingers’ worth, passing the glasses around until they each had one. “The way I see it, life is too short, even for us. We’ll never have this moment again. And there is no reason why we shouldn’t come back here, to the place that meant so much to us, and celebrate what brought us together in the first place.”

He lifted his glass up in a toast. “So, here’s to good friends and to good memories.” Methos paused, “Oh, and happy whatever holiday the kids are celebrating these days.” 

Richie snorted. Duncan smiled, and Amanda rested her head against his shoulder. Joe looked choked up, but all four of them raised their glasses to join his. Methos took a good sip, letting the flavors linger on his tongue, sure then that the bottle was worth every penny he’d paid for it. This made the trip back to Seacouver worth it for him, to see Joe happy with his old friends, for Richie and Duncan to talk like civilized people, for Amanda to bring him more tales of her adventures. While he might be constantly shifting his identity and moving from place to place, these people understood him better than anyone else had in ages. They were his family now, as close to one as he could have, and this was the time of year that should be spent with those you loved. 

And these were the moments he didn’t need to write down to remember, either, memorizing each of their faces, the way the liquor had a slight burn as he sipped at it, the twinkling of the Christmas lights behind the bar. This moment was peaceful. Perfect. 

Methos couldn’t ask for a better Christmas present.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is shamelessly from "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."


End file.
